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Echoes 



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Songs of the New Emancipation, Etc. J. 



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Entered at the Minneapolis, Minn. Post Office as Seoond 
Class Matter. ^^ 
V^l 

THE NATION LIBRARY 

May, 1, 1896. " Vol. 3, No. 4. 



Echoes from 




m 



JUN 5 1896 



CHAS. A. SH^PEtEt^^ 

U 

Author of Songs of the New Emancipation, Etc* 






Post Paid — Single copy 10c. Three copies, 25c 
Twenty copies, $1.00. One hundred copies, $4-00 
Special Wholesale Rates. 



C. St. John Cole, Publisher, 
Minneapolis, ... - Minnesota* 

Copyright, 1896. by C. St. John Cole, 



^' 






CONTENTS. 

We'll Own the Earth 5 

Oar Flag the Toiler's Protection 6 

She's My Party 7 

Marching on to Victory 8 

Vote No More for Goldbugs 9 

Labor's Triumph , . 10 

Good-bye Old Party, Good-bye 11 

The God of Kutocrat Alley 12 

The Poor White Slave 13 

Sleek Menage 14 

Poor Blind Chump 15 

The Patches on My Pants ... 16 

Where Have the Goldbugs Gone 17 

The Anthem of the Free '. 18 

Schoolmaster Coin 19 

Listen to the Bugle Call , 20 

Our Party has Come to Stay 21 

She's Going to Get There, Sure 22 

A Plea for Emancipation 23 

The People's Cry 24 

Yankee Boodle 25 

What Have They Done for the People 26 

The Modern Home, Swf et ( ?) Home 27 

The People's Party Platform 28 

Jubilee 29 

Away to the Fight 30 

Fond Recollections of '73 v . 31 

Jacob and Esau 32 

Labor's Ammunition 33 

Gold Bug John 34 

Wheat is Low 35 

A Song for 1900 36 

Two Pictures 37 

The Silver Lining 38 

Sound Money 39 

Battle Hymn of the Wronged 40 

Marseilles Hymn 41 

The Banner of Freedom 42 

The Product of Labor 43 

Old Parties Must Go 44 

The Caucus 45 

The People's Hymn 46 

Rally 47 

The Way to Victory 48 

Pull All Together 48 



PREFACE. 

In the spring of 1894, the author launched on the 
sea of reform literature a little book entitled " Songs 
of the New Emancipation." These songs seem to 
have met a felt want, in that they cry stalized the 
sentiments of the thinking masses and gave them a 
setting in the old-time melodies so dear to the hearts 
of the common people. 

The reform movement " goes marching on " with 
rapid strides, and so many new and significant events 
have transpired since this first song book appeared, 
that I have decided to publish a larger and more 
complete collection of " up-to-date " songs, under a 
new title. 

In "Echoes from '76" will be found many of 
the Songs of the New Emancipation, and in addition 
a number of new. ones suggested by occurrences 
fresh in the minds of the people. To these is ap- 
pended a choice selection from the soul-stirring glees 
written by the late Benjamin F. Clark, ( " Unclb 
Ben.") 

Chas. A. Sheffield. 
Minneapolis, Minn., April, 1896. " 



Special Notice t© 
QUARTETTES and GLEE CLUBS. 

We will send the music for any of these 
campaign songs, arranged for four parts, with 
the first verse of song on sheet, on receipt of 
price, 5 cents. 

The following tunes, whose copyrights have 
not expired, will be furnished as follows : — 

Old Black Joe $0.30 

Wait 'Till the Clouds Roll By 30 

My Old Kentucky Home 30 

Listen to the Mocking Bird 25 

The Sunshine of Paradise Alley 25 

Sweet Marie. 30 



Author, unknown. 

We'll Own the Earth. 

Let us gather up the sunbeams 

Lying all around our path, 
Get a trust on wheat and roses, 

Give the poor the thorns and chaff. 
Let us find our chiefest pleasure 

Hoarding bounties of to-day, 
So the poor shall have scant measure 

And two prices have to pay. 

Yes, we'll reservoir the rivers, 

And we'll levy on the lakes, 
And we'll lay a trifling poll tax 

On each poor man who partakes, 
We'll brand our number on him 

That he'll carry through his life; 
We'll apprentice all his children, 

Get a mortgage on his wife. 

We'll capture e'en the wind-god 

And confine him in a cave; 
And then claim through our patent 
process, 

We the atmosphere will save; 
Thus we'll squeeze our little brother, 

When his lungs he tries to fill, 
Put a meter on his wind- pipe 

And present our little bill 

We will syndicate the starlight, 

And monopolize the moon ; 
Claim royalty on rest days, 

A proprietary noon; 
For right-of-way through ocean's spray* 

We'll charge just what it's worth; 
We'll drive our stakes around the lakes, 

In fact, we'll own the earth. 



Our Flag the Toiler's Protection. 

{Tune — "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean \) 
Columbia, the gem of the ocean, 

The home of the loyal and brave, 
Though now tossed by the waves of commotion, 

Thou shalt never see Liberty's grave; 
Thy cries shall bring heroes together, 

For thy sons are yet valiant and true, 
Thev will see that plutocracy shall never 

Hide its shame 'neath the red, white and blue. 

Then Hurrah! for the red, white and blue, 
"When borne by the valiant and true, 
But when plutocrats use it for a cover, 
'Tis an insult to the red, white and blue. 

Not an emblem of war's desolations 

Is the flag that so dearly we love, 
But a signal of peace to the nations, 

Like an olive branch borne from above; 
Not the blood of our brothers shall stain her, 

She shall bathe in the sunshine and dew, 
And no war-demon fluttering around her 

E'er shall hide 'neath the red, white and blue. 

Then Hurrah! for the red, white and blue, 
When borne by the valiant and true, 
But when tyrants in blood seek to plunge her, 
'Tis an insult to the red, white and blue. 

May our flag be the toilers' protection, 

From the power of oppression to save, 
May her stars shine more bright next election, 

Looking down on plutocracy's grave; 
As a standard of pure legislation 

For the many and not for the few, 
Shine in glory, O flag of our nation — 

Three cheers for the red, white and blue ! 

Three cheers for the red, white and blue! 
Three cheers for the red, white and blue! 
Shine in glory, O flag of our nation — 
Three cheers for the red, white and blue! 



She's My Party. 

(Tune— Little Annie Rooney.) 
A winning way where'er she goes, 
Sweet to friends but cross to foes, 
Quick to heed her country's woes, 

Is the People's Party; 
Every time she sends a son 
Way down to wicked Washington, 
She knows he'll gird his armour on, 

And ne'er disgrace his Party. 

Chorus — She's my Party bound* to grow, 
Going to pieces? O, no, no! 
Soon she'll carry all the South and West, 
Then a little later, she'll swipe the rest. 

She's now employed in teaching school, 
Her pupils learn the "Golden Bule," 
And how they've long been made a tool 

By both the two old parties; 
A million names were on her roll, 
When first her bell began to toll, 
And millions more will make a hole 

In both the two old parties. 

Chorus — She's my Party, bound to grow, 
Going to pieces? O, no, no! 
Soon she'll carry all the South and West, 
Then a little later she'll swipe the rest. 

Eighteen ninety- six is the year 
To stand in history dark and drear, 
But now a happy time is near, 

'Twill reach us through our Party ; 
My friend, don't throw your vote away, 
To leave your bondage don't delay, 
Besolve to come with us to- day 

And boom the People's Party. 

Chorus — She's my Party bound to grow, 
Going to pieces ? O, no, no! 
Soon she'll carry all the South and West, 
Then a little later she'll swipe the rest. 



Marching On To Victory. 

(Tuue— Marching through Georgia.) 
Sound the good old bugle with a bimetallic ring, 
Silver free from sea to sea with lusty voices sing, 
Our banner with its silver stars* to waiting breezes 
fling, 

While we go marching on to victory. 
Oho: Hurrah! Hurrah! We sing the Jubilee— 
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our coinage ever free — 
Let the nation hear us from the prairie to the sea, 
While we go marching on to victory. 

Every Shylock in the land is trembling now with 
fright, 

Lest the people break the chains of gold that hold 
them tight, 

Now our silver bows we bend the wily foe to smite, 
While we go marching on to victory. 

Cho: Hurrah! Hurrah! We sing the Jubilee — 
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our coinage ever free — ■ 
Let the nation hear us from the prairie to the sea, 
While we go marching on to victory. 

United now we firmly vow to press this one appeal, 
Until the pledge is plainly signed that silver's in the 

deal, 
No longer to a goldeu calf shall freemen basely 

kneel- 
Then forward, my boys, on to victory! 
Cho:. Hurrah! Hurrah! We sing the Jubilee — 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Our coinage ever free — 
Let the nation hear us from the prairie to the sea, 
While we go marching on to victory. 

: czes .. s- ic: 



Vote No More for Gold-bugs. 

Tune — "My Old Kentucky Home." 

The sun shone bright in my childhood's happy home, 

The people were hearty and gay, 
The times were good and the home was all their own, 

For no mortgage drained their wealth away; 
The young folks danced on the smooth and glossy 

All hearts were so happy and bright, [floor, 

Bye and bye hard times came a- knocking at the door, 

Then my mortgage- ridden home, good night. 

Chokus : — 

Vote no more for gold-bugs, 

O vote no more that way, 
We will strike once more for our country and our 

Till free and happy homes come to stay [homes, 

We'll weep no more over Venezuela's woe, 

Till we rescue our homes from decay, 
We'll preach no more on the doctrine of Monroe, 

Till the Populists carry the day. 
O John Carlisle, there's a shadow in his heart, 

There's sorrow where all was delight, 
The time has come when his party's got to part 

In the middle for a free silver fight. 

Chokus : — Vote no more for gold-bugs, etc. 

Old parties break, for the people will not bend 

To slave for the rich any more, 
A few more days, and the trouble will all end, 

Then the times will be good as of yore ; 
A few more days for to tote the weary load, 

And then we'll be ready for the fight, 
Then keep right on in the middle of the road, 

And we'll bid the mortgaged home, good night. 

Chokus: — Vote no more for gold- bugs, ©tc. 
9 



Labor's Triumph, 

(Tune— "Glory, glory, hallelujah.'''') 

The night is disappearing, and the dawn is just at 

hand, 
The millions are uprising to possess the goodly land, 
Monopoly is cowering at Liberty's command, 
As we go marching on. 

Chorus: — Glory, glory, hallelujah 
Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Our Cause is marching' on! 

No longer are the wealth-producers standing far 

aj^art, 
A common purpose drives them to be one in hand 

and heart, 
"One solid labor-union" is their motto from the start, 
As they go marching on. 

Chorus: — Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Our Cause is marching on! 

Election-day is nearing, and we know what we're 

about, 
'Twill be our blessed privilege to turn the rascals out, 
And when we win the battle, we will raise a mighty 
shout, 
As we go marching on. 

Chorus: — Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Glory, Glory, hallelujah, 
Glory, Glory, hallelujah, 
Our Cause is marching on ! 

Come on, ye hosts of Mammon, we will never be 

dismayed, 
Though boodle and a lying press against us are 

arrayed, 
The sword of truth is mighty, and we hold that 
trusty blade, 
As we go marchig on. 

Chorus: — Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
Glory, glory, hallelujah' 
Our Cause is marching on. 

10 



Good-bye, Old Party, Good-bye. 

(Time— "Good-bye, my Lover, Good-bye.'''') 
As I was walking down the street, 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye, 
A Republican I chanced to meet, 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye. 
Says he to me, "We're in it now," 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye, 
Says I to him, "I can't see how," 

Good -by, old party, good-bye. 

Chorus: — Bye, party, bye-bye 
Bye, party, bye-bye, 
Bye, party, bye-bye, 
Good-bye, old party, good-bye. 

"The people want a change," said he, 

Good-bye, old party, good bye, 
Said I, "But not to you?' part-ee," 

Good-bye, old party. 
'They're all for G. O. P.," he cried, 

Good-bye old party, good-bye, 
"Except the toilers," I replied, 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye. 

Cho: — Bye, party, &c. 

"We've got the business-men" he hoots, 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye, 
Says I, "By that you mean the plutes," 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye. 
On that he madly cussed and swore, 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye, 
He'll be a Pop in two years more, 

Good-bye, old party, good-bye. 

Cho: — Bye, party, &c. 
11 



The God of Plutocrat Alley. 

(Tune — " The Sunshine of Paradise Alley.) 

There's a little side street, 
Where to swindle and cheat, 

All the bankers of Gotham do rally, 
Though it's dingy inside, 
'Tis the bond-holders pride, 

And I call the place Plutocrat Alley, 
And there stands in that street, 
On its four cloven feet, 

A calf with the face of Old Harry, 
Tall as Barnum's giraffe, 
Is the great Golden Calf, 

That is worshiped in Plutocrat Alley. 
Chorus : — 
Every week-day, down to Wall street they go, 
All the gold-bugs of New York, they love him so. 
Crawling lowly, down at his feet they bow, 
He is the god of our Plutocrat Alley. 

When poor Uncle Sam had 
Panic-fever so bad 

That no doctor would venture to aid hi m, 
Then our Grover so brave 
Brought a plaster to save, 

And the Syndicate richly repaid him ; 
But he never got well, 
And his nejDhews all tell 

How the treatment was mere dilly-dally, 
And it raisea a laugh 
From the great Golden Calf 

That is worshiped in Plutocrat Alley. 

Chorus: — Every week-day, etc. 
When they choose a high priest 
For this god of the east, 

He must swear to be true to sound money, 
He must play well his part 
Till they say he's right smart, 

If he flatters with talk that's all honey ; 
But I think just the same 
"Dennis" will be his name, 

And the Moses around whom we rally, 
Will go down with his staff 
And destroy the Great Calf 

That is worshiped in Plutocrat Alley. 

Chorus; — Every week-day, etc. 

12 



The Poor White Slave. 

{Tune— Old Black Joe.) 

Down where the coal-mine lifts its ugly shaft, 
There stands a hut, beside a narrow-lane, 
List to the strains the summer breezes waft, 
From out the open window comes 

This sad refrain : — ■ 
"I'm starving, I'm starving, 
And I'll fill a pauper's grave, 
No one but God now cares for me, 

A poor white slave." 

Loved ones have gone — a darling child and wife- 
Dead for the want of care that money brings, 
Left here alone, the miner gasps for life, 
No ear but God's to listen while 

He faintly sings: — ■ 
"I'm starving, I'm starving, 
And I'll fill a pauper's grave, 
No one but God now cares for me, 

A poor white slave." 

Long years he toiled — a pittance was his pay, 
Still growing less, till hope at last had flown; 
Sickness and hunger bear him now away — ■ 
Away to him who pitying hears 

His last faint moan:— 
"I'm starving, I'm starving, 
And I'll fill a pauper's grave, 
No one but God now cares for me 

A poor white slave." 

O Christ of love, who once thyself wast poor! 
Where are the ones who falsely bear Thy name? 
No brother man to seek this cottage door, 
No one to hear this last appeal 

Or heed its claim ? — 
"I'm starving, I'm starving, 
And I'll fill a pauper's grave, 
No one but God now cares for me 
A poor white slave." 

God speed the day when want shall be no more, 
When none shall feel the grip of Hunger's hand! 
Soon may this wail of living death be o'er, 
Now heard in hut and hovel through 

Our suffering land: 
"I'm starving, I'm starving, 
And I'll fill a pauper's grave, 
N :> one but God now cares for me 

A poor white slave." 

13 



Sleek Menage. 

(Tune — "Sweet Marie" ) 
(As sung by Miss Birdie Wasserzieker.) 
You've a secret in your heart, 

Sleek Menage, 
A tale you might impart, 

Sleek Menage, 
All your cronies* know it well 
And they tremble lest you tell, 
So pray hide it where you dwell, 

Sleek Menage. . 
Every gold-bug in the west, 

Sleek Menage, 
Who was with you in that nest, 

Sleek Menage, 
When the nest began to fall, 
After making each his haul, 
Said he "didn't know at all," 

Sleek Menage. 
Chorus: 
Keep away, sleek Menage, 
Sneak Menage, keep away ; 
Though we miss the campaign fund 

You used to pay, 
If you came you might repeat 
All the schemes we made to cheat, 
So we pray we'll never meet, 

Sleek Menage! 

There's a paper in our town, 

Sleek Menage, 
It was bound to hunt you down, 

Sleek Menage, 
And a smart detective lad 
Made its editor so glad, 
When he traced you by that pad 

Sleek Menage. 
Ikey could not tell a lie, 

Sleek Menage, 
And you know the reason why, 

Sleek Menage, 
Ere the blotting-pad was dry, 
You were safely warned to fly, 
And the Journal got its pie, 

Sleek Menage. 
Chorus: — Keep away Sleek Menage, etc. 

14 



Theie's a warm and sunny clime, 

Sleek Menage, 
Where you're sweetly killing time, 

Sleek Menage, 
In your hammock as you swing, 
You're an independent king, 
Well protected by the " King," 

Sleek Menage; 
Two were once upon your track, 

Sleek Menage, 
But they quickly hurried back, 

Sleek Menage, " 
When they reached the hunting ground, 
Ah ! the mystery profound ! 
You, of course, could not be found, 

Sleek Menage ! 
Chorus : — Keep away, Sleek Menage, etc. 
* Prominent Republican Leaders in Minnesota. 



Poor Blind Chump. [A Round.] 

{Tune— Three Blind Mice.) 

Poor blind chump! 
Poor blind chump! 
Poor blind chump! 

Buy a new torch! 
Buy a new torch! 
Buy a new torch! 

Go march to the music of drum and fife, 
Then vote for the plutes if it starves your wife, 
Did yon ever see such a fool in your life 
As a poor blind chump. 

15 



The Patches on my Pants. 

"Tune— It was my, Last Cigar,", or * ; 'Auld Lang Syne.* 

Of all the years since I began 

To mix in politics, 
The one that tries my inner man 

Is Eighteen Ninety-six; 
And as this aching void I feel, 

I cast a wistful glance, 
And count them ail from hip to heel, 

The patches on my pants. 

Chorus : — The patches on my pants, 
The patches on my pants, 
They're gathering here each passing y ear, 
The patches on my pants. 

My mind runs back to '88, 

When first I tried them on, 
I walked with proud and joyous gait 

To vote for Harrison ; 
Had I prophetic eyes to see 

They'd swim with tears perchance, 
To find that vote brought out on me 
These patches on my pants. 

Chorus: — The patches on my pants, etc 

And as they gathered, one by one, 

'•There's something wrong,* I said, 
"Four years we've t^ried Ben Harrison, 

Let Grover rule instead." 
But when I joined the other side, 

My prospects to enhance, 
It took a longer coat to hide 

The patches on my pants. 

Chorus : — The patches on my pasts, etc. 

And when my wife beholds my plight, 

She heaves a sigh, poor soul, 
It tires her arm and dims her sight 

To close each yawning hole; 
An'd as her trembling needle flies, 

Her life is no romance, 
She traces there old-party lies, 

While patching up my pants. 

Chorus: — The patches on my pants, etc. 

*Omit chorus when singing to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne." 
16 



Where Have the Gold-Bugs Gone? 

Tune— "Where Has my Little Dog Gone." 

Where, O where has-McKinley gone, 

O where, O where can he be, 
With his beard out short and his hah* cut long, 

O where has little Mac gone ? 

He's out on the stump and he'll now have to hump, 
Or out from his party the people will jumjD, 

He'll swear if the Tariff is laid on the shelf, 
And then he'll be kicking himself. 

Where has our Lord of the Treasury gone, 

O where, O where can he be, 
With his head so swelled and his speech so long, 

O where can that Judas have gone ? 

He's gone to a banquet of bankers elite, 

He drinks to the health and the wealth of Wall 

Hurrah for Sound Money and Johnny Carlisle, [street, 
Who adds to the Syndicate's pile. 

Where, O where has old Grover gone, 

O wheie, O where can he be, 
With his coat so short and his boots so long, 

O where has our President gone ? 

He's made a fat m'llion on Syndicate bonds, 
And now he is trolling for fish in the ponds, 

He chuckles to think how his bond issue " took," 
With suckers that bit at his hook. 

17 



The Anthem of the Free. 

(Tune — Watch on the Rhine.) 

From north to south, from sea to sea, 
Loud swells the anthem of the free — 
Awake, O Liberty, awake, 
A nation's life is now at stake! 
Shall money kings usurp ihy throne? 
Shall tyrants foul thy birthright own? 
Nay— to thy cause we pledge our lives, our all- 
Lead on to victory — thy foes shall fail ! 

"We sail a dark and stormy sea, 

But soon our joyful cry shall be, 

" The dawn — the dawn — the glorious dawn — 

The Old is dead, the New is born! " 

Some pilot, watching from the deck, 

Shall saye the ship of state from wreck, 

Then, like Columbus, with his sword in hand, 

Claim for his people all the wealth of land. 

O fair Columbia, on thy brow 
A few rare jewels sparkle now, 
Set there by her who gave thee birth, 
Queen Liberty, who lights our earth; 
From Labors realm she found each gem, 
To deck thy glorious diadem, 
Arid by her blazing torch their names we read- 
Names of our heroes great in word and deed. 

O toilers, to the world unknown, 
Whose deeds remain uncaryed in stono 
Yet none the less to freedom dear, 
The people shall your lives revere; 
Ye souls who stand for truth and right, 
Wren hate and wrong are at their height, 
Though common laborers in field and town, 
Your names immortal shall be handed down. 
18 



Schoolmaster Coin. 

(Tune — " The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo:') 

The little man wholeads the van in questions of fi- 
Is the lad that holds the rule, [nance, 

Down in "Coin's Financial School;" 

He answers all the "folderol" the bankers may 
advance, 
And he silences the "single standard" fool — 
Yes, he silences the "single standard" fool. 

Chorus : — 
As Master Coin goes marching on with an indepen- 
The gold bugs all declare, [dent air, 

"Great Scott! He's getting there!" 
You can hear them sigh, and wish he'd die, 
As in vain they hurl another lie 
At this brainy little teacher from Chicago. 

The plutocratic writers waste a dreadful deal of ink, 

But the people have no use 

For their slander and abuse; 
When little Coin gets after them, he twists them in 

a kink, 
And with every move they make he plays the deuce, 
Yes, with every move they make he plays the deuce! 

Chorus : As Master Coin goes marching on, etc. 

Gold Kussell Sage and Lyman Gage of figures were 
So they both began run, [afraid, 

"When he made the figure 1, 
They should go to Coin's Financial School and enter 

lowest grade, 
Till they learn from him how simplest sums are 

done, 
Till they learn from him how simplest sums are 
done, 

Chorus: As Master Coin goes marching on, etc 

My friend, are you among the few that never went 
Get your little book and slate — [to Coin? 

Have him teach you "up to date;" 

And when you've taken all the course, you're ready 
then to join 

In the coming fight to save the Ship of State, 

In the coming fight to save the Ship of State. 

Chorus : As Master Coin goes marching on, etc. 
19 



Listen to the Bugle Call. 

Tune: — ''Listen to the Mocking Bird." 

Come, wealth producers, rally, 

Dorrt dally, 

Come, rally, 
Don't slave in Gold-bug Valley, 

But scale the mountain passes and be freev 
Don't be so melancholly, 

Tis folly, 

By golly! 
Cheei up and be right jolly, 

The People's Party comes to set you free 

Chorus : 
Listc i to the bugle call, 
Listen to the bugle call, 

Its clarion notes are sounding all the day, 
Listen to the bugle call, 
Listen to the bugle call, 

2he silver bugle calls you — up — away! 

When voting next November, 

O trembler, 

Remember, 
That man's a base disembler, 

Who says if silver wins there'll be a crash; 
Bight there he makes a blunder 

Bad blunder, 

By thunder! 
The country won't go under, 

But the party he upholds is bound to smash. 

Chorus: — Listen to the bugle call, etc. 

Elect your trusted leaders, 

True pleaders, 

No bleeders, 
Your laws are now trust feeders, 

The men you choose must frame a better set; 
Demand + ho Referendum, 

When you send 'em, 

To amend 'em. 
Make ready to defend 'em, 

For a Court Supreme may try to down them yet. 

Chorus: — Listen to the buglecall, etc. 

SO 



Our Party has Come to Stay. 

(Tune— 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home. 1 ") 

Say — have you heard the latest news ? 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
It gives old-party men the blues, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
The people all in the south and west, 
They call the People's Party the best, 

And they all feel gay, 

For that Party has come to stay, 

Yes, they all feel gay, 

For that Party has come to stay. 

When election-day has come again, 

Hurrah 1 Hurrah! 
We'll shatter the two old parties then, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
We voters know what we're about, 
We'll all be in it and they'll be out, 

And we'll all feel gay 

When our Party has come to stay, 

Yes, we'll all feel gay 

When our Party has come to stay. 

The returns that day will astonish the plutes, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
They'll howl at the lift of the toe of our boots, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
The nation will ring with the song we sing, 
And we'll all be blithe as the birds of spring, 

For we'll all feel gay, 

When our Party has come to stay, 

Yes, we'll ail foel gay, 

When our Party has come to stay. 

So be of good cheer, ye sons of toil, 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
This land is yours, brave knights of the soil, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
The dawn is at hand of a brighter day, 
When the people shall own the right of way, 

So we all feel gay, 

For our Party has come to stay, 

Yes, we all feel gay, 

For our Party has come to stay. 

21 



STie's Going; to Get There, Sure. 

Tune.— "Old Folks at Home."' 

Way down the Mississippi River, 

Far, far away, 
There's where the Pops are growing ever, 

There's where they've come to stay; 
Way from the Gulf to old Lake Erie 

Our speakers roam, 
O how they make the Gold-bugs weary, 

Wishing they'd stay at home. 

Cnoxtus : — 

Round the states we go a-stuinping, 

Battling for the poor, 
C, how the People's Party's humping, 

She's going to get there, sure. 

Our country's had enough of Sherman, 

That sly old thief, 
She wants an honest Pop for her man, 

We'll rally round that chief; 
We're sick of Tarirr" Bill MsKial 

And straddling Heed, 
They're strutting awf nl proud and kingly, 

Soon they'll be gone to seed. 
Chorus: — Round the states we go a stumping, etc. 

Soon shall you hear the voters humming, 

All around the polls, 
Then shall you see the Kingdom coming, 

Dropping down the baliot-box holes : 
Come then and vote the People's ticket, 

That's bound to win, 
Old parties, two to one, can't lick it, 

We'll make 'em both give in. 
Chorus: — Round the states we go a-stumping, etc. 

22 



A Plea for Emancipation. 

{Tune — America.) 

My country, 'tis of thee, 
Land still in slavery, 

Of thee I sing; 
Land where the rich and high 
Thy sacred laws defy, 
Where thousands, starving, die, 

Where gold is king. 

My native country, thee, 
Land of the curses three — 

Greed, want, and caste — 
I loathe thy usury rate, 
Thy shams and cant I hate, 
And all that binds a state 

To th' mouldy past. 

Justice — thine arm make bare, 
And wrest from millionaire 

Ill-gotten gains! 
Let toilers now awake, 
Let tyrants fear and quake, 
Till all their fetters break — 

Till manhood reigns! 

Our fathers' God, to Thee, 
Author of liberty, 

To Thee we cry ; 
Soon may our land be free 
From want and misery. — 
Hear this Thy people's plea, 

Ere Freedom die. 

23 



The People's Cry. 

( Tune — '''■Larboard Watch") 

When wealth producers, faint with toil, 

Must sell their labor for a song, 

When masters of industrial slaves 

Will plot and scheme to oppress and wrong, 

How can the toiler patient be — 

How can his brow be light with hope 

When children sweet and wife so dear 

Must ever with privation cope? 

His soul's on fire with outraged sense — ■ 

Why marvel then at violence ? 

Hear their mighty cry — 

" Justice ! Liberty ! 

Or by the God of truth and right 

We will arise in manhood's might — 

A tidal wave of blood may swell 

O'er this fair land we love so well — 

Our land we love so well — 
Liberty ! Liberty ! 

Our lives or Liberty!" 

And need it fill us with surprise 

If suffering slaves should soon arise, 

To fight the power of fraud and greed, 

That on the blood of starvelings feed? 

Hear, all ye people in this land 

Aroused at Liberty's command — 

To every ear the message tell — 

" God save this land we love so well.' 

Then from the hand of Nature kind 

Her children every joy would find. 

Hear their mighty cry — 

"Justice ! Liberty ! " 

O, who can speak the shame we feel 

When freemen cringe and basely kneel, 

Though oft the lash of tyrants fall 

On wives and children while they call 

For Justice — Liberty ! 
Hear their plea — " Set us free — 

Our lives or Liberty!" 

24 



Yankee Boodle. 

{Tune— Yankee Doodle.) 
Once on a time old Grover C. 

Sent forth a great big bellow, 
To stop the use of white mon-ee 

And coin alone the yellow; 
So Congress gathered at his beck 

And loud and long debated, 
Till silver got it "in the neck", 
And Shylock's thirst was sated. 
Yankee Boodle did the job — ■ 
Boodle there was handy, 
Grover handled well his mob, 
Congress was a dandy! 

But still the panic moved along 

And got its deadly work in, 
Each plutocrat was waxing fat 

While Congress kept on skirkin'; 

Old Grover vetoed seigniorage, 

Against the people's wishin', 

And having nothing more to do 

Of course he went a fishin'. 

Boodlers soon will lose their job, 
Though boodle now is handy, 
Grover cannot rule his mob, 
Ain't these times a dandy! 

O how they feared the "Commonweal", 

A guilty conscience pricked them, 
Just think how awful they would feel 

Had General Coxey licked them! 
Perhaps for once a good big scare 

Might stir them up to action, 
And tide us through this desert b&re 
Until this fall's election. 

Boodlers soon will lose their job, 
Though boodle now is handy, 
Grover cannot rule his mob — 
Ain't these times a dandy! 

25 



What Have They Done for the Poeple/ 

Words and Music composed by C. A. Sheffield. 

There lives a man in the State of Maine, 

And a wonderful man is he, 
His words are caustic, so sarcastic, 
Tongue and conscience so elastic, 

Wonderful man to lead, 
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful man, 

Wonderful man, Tom Keed. 

Choeus : — 
O, his words are great, and his words are grand, 

They soar as high as a steeple, 
(But when you face the facts of the case — say,)* 

What has he done for the people '? 

In Minnesota lives a man, 

And a wonderful man is he, 
He crawls before Jim Hill, the Greedy, 
Then hs snubs the poor and needy, 

Wonderful man to .^ush, 
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful man, 

Wonderful Senator Cush. 

Chorus: — O, his words are grant, etc. 

There lives a man in Old Kentuck, 

And a wonderful man is ne, 
His name is John, but should be Judas, 
All his lying can't delude us, 

Wonderful man, Carlisle, 
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful man, 

With bonds he made his pile. 

Chorus : — O, his words are great, etc. 

There lives a man in I-o-way, 

And a wonderful man is he, 
You know the Credit Mobilier scandal, 
How much stock did William handle i 

How do you think he'd run *? 
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful man, 

Wonderful Allison. 

Chorus: — O, his words are great, etc. 
26 






There lives a man in O-hi-o, 
And a wonderful man is he, 

He gives his name to a tariff measure, 

Wins his fame with gold-bug treasure, 
Man of the one i-dee, 

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful man, 
Billy McKin-ly ee. 

CHOBUS. 
* This line should be spoken, not sung. 



The Modern Home, Sweet (?) Home. 

(Tune. — "Home, Sweet Home.'') 

In country or city, where'er you may roam, 
'Mong millions of workers, but few own their home; 
The farm or the cottage may be theirs in name, 
But a fast-eating mortgage is there all the same. 

Home, home, Poor-man's home, 
The place where he lives is in no sense a home. 

Go with me, my friend, through this land, east or 

west, 
You'll ne'er find a spot but one home is the best, 
It may be a mansion, or line country-seat, 
But the owner got rich on the poor he could cheat. 

Home, home, Rich -man's home, 
Be it ever so costly, our toil bought that home. 

All o'er our fair land, there are wand'rers that roam, 
Be it ever so humble, they've no place called home ; 
They search all daylong, but no work comes in sight, 
No couch but the ground when they lie down at night. 

No home, No — no home, 
Be it ever our shame that they've no place called 
home. 

My friend, if you're homeless, yield not to despair, 
Just vote for a free home, and soon you'll be there, 
This land is your birthright, yours ever to hold, 
Then yield not one foot to the tyrants of gold. 

Home, home, own your home 
Stand up like a free man, and claim your own home. 

27 



The People's Party Platform. 

Tune — " Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching."\ 

Sturdy populists are we, 
And united we agree 

That to us belongs the wealth that we create, 
And that he who will not toil 
Has no title to the soil, 

But his land must be surrendered to the state. 

Chorus : Tramp, tramp, tramp the pops are marching, 
Labor's rights have got to come, 
All the land is ours to share, 
Free as water, sun or air, 

Every freeman is entitled to a home. 
Silver free, sixteen to one, 
Is not all we stand upon, 

Though we mean to split old parties with that 
But our platform shall abide [wedge, 

When the wedge is thrown aside, 

Then the gold and silver kings will have to "hedge". 
Chorus : Tramp, tramp, tramp etc, 

Uncle Sam should not refuse 
All the scrip we need to use, 

And without the intervention of a bank, 
'Tis a very shameful way 
Double interest to pay, 

So we're standing on a legal tender plank. 

Chorus; Tramp, tramp, tramp, etc. 

" We the people " now demand 
Every railroad in the land, 

To be freemen we must own the right of wav ; 
All the telegraphic lines, 
All the forests and the mines, 

Must be ours to keep forever and a day ! 

Chorus: Tramp, tramp, tramp, etc. 

Vast estates will melt as wax 
When we get the income-tax, 

And we'll have it yet in spite of venal courts; 
Referendum shall be law, 
Where no judge can pick a flaw, 

Then we'll batter down the last of Shylock's forts. 

Chorus: Tramp, tramp, tramp, etc. 
23 



JUBILEE. 

( Tune— The Year of Jubilo . ) £ 

Say, brothers, don't you see them coming 

To the People's Party ranks ? 
The woods in the North and South are humming 

With the swarms of noisy cranks. 
The Piuties shout, "Come back I 

For your brains are out of whack!" 
But they keep right on, for they can't fool one, 

So the Plutes are on the rack. 

"Free-trade," they cry, or "a tariff high," 

As a cure-all for our wo s, 
But we've tried each pill, and are sicker still 

Than we were before the dose. 
Old party quacks — ta-ta, 

We're onto you — ha-ha, 
And don't you see our relief must be 

"Populista medica." 

When Piuties see we're beyond their hurting 

They will make an awful fuss, 
You'll see the sneaks pell-mell deserting-, 

And they'll cry "Hurrah!" with us. 
The Pops will laugh ha-ha ! 

And the Plutes will shout ho-hol 
So don't you see we will all be free 

In the years of JubiJr>. 



29 



Away to the Fight. 

{Tune— "Dixie.") 

Away down south in the land of molaf 
Cotton-seed oil and comely lasses, 
And away, away, away to the fight! 

I wish I was in Dixie, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
Down there the Pops are right on top, 
And when they vote there'll something drop, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
Away down south in Dixie, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 

Pluties, there we'll fix ye. 

Away up north where the coal-oil bubbles, 
Land of Strikes and labor troubles, 
And away, away, away to the fight! 

1 wish I was a Yankee, 
Hurrah! Hurrah! 

In Yankee land I'd take my stand 
To lick the Plutes in Yankee land, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
Y"ou can't enslave a Yankee, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
You only make him cranky. 

Away down east in the town of "Washington, 
Down where Wall-Street's gang is bossing 'em, 
Away, away, away to the fight! 

I wish I'd been with Coxe^ , 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
With Coxey's band I'd take my stand. 
Till Congress took my case in hand, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
I wish I'd been with Ooxey, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
I'd drink his health in moxie. 



30 



Away out west in the land of thistles, 
Threshing-machines and cowboy whistles, 
And away, away, away to the fight! 

I wish I owned a section, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
I'd thresh my wheat and salt my meat 
Then do my best the Plutes to beat, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
I wish I owned a section, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
I'd howl till next election. 



Fond Recollections of '73. 

{Tune— The Old Oaken Bucket.) 
How dear to the Plutes is the '73 crisis, 
"When fond recollection presents it to view ; 
The boodle that oiled the deep-tangled devices, 
And all the queer antics that Sherman went through ; 
How smoothly he moved, as if dancing a German, 
"While congressmen voted their pockets to fill — 
The old scheming Sherman, the wire -pulling' Sher- 
man, 
The "honest John Sherman," who fathered that bill. 

How dear to the Plutes was demonetization, 
"When midnight conspiracy carried it through — 
No thought of the mischief it wrought to the nation, 
"While forcing the many to bow to the few. 
The lobbies were swarming with sleek, shining gold- 
bugs, 
"Who plotted the people to force to the wall ; 
The sly, cunning gold-bugs, the greedy, old gold- 
bugs, 
The gold-bugs that crawled in congressional hall. 

31 



Jacob and Esau. 

(Tune— "Comiri 1 thro 1 the Rye".) 
If a Jacob meet an Esau, 

Starving in the street, 
If he offer soup uo Esau 

"Whv not, Esau, eat? 
Every freeman has a stomach — 

Soup is quite a treat — 
Make haste to sell your birthright, Esau, 

Jacob would not cheat! 

If a brother meet a brother, 

Struggling hard for bread. 
If a brother starve a brother, 

Need there tears be shed? 
Every man for self must battle — 

Drag his neighbor down, 
Such gospel sweet, with soup to eat! 

Go gulp without a frown. 

If a party meet a party, 

Fighting spoils to share — 
If a party beat a party, 

Need a party care? 
Every pluty knows his duty 

Whichever one may win, 
Each party goes where boodle flows 

And calmly scoops it in. 

If a party shock two parties 

Next election day, 
If a party knock to parties 

Down the "broad — broad way", 
Every worn and wretched toiler 

No - ^: by greed oppressed 
Shall then arise and seize his prize— 

His birthright repossessed. 

32 



Labor's Ammunition. 

(Tune— "Pulling Hard Against the Stream.'"} 
In the battle field of Labor 

Every ballot hits the foe, 
Deadlier far than gun or sabre 

Are these paper wads yon throw; 
Some dislodge the boodle takers, — 

Send them straight to Sheol land, 
Others smite the panic makers, 

Scattering Shylock's cursed band. 

So then— 
When you vote, unite, my brothers, 

Never mind what Plutes may say, 
Don't be chumps and fight each other, 

Striking down a friend don't pay. 
Many a Democrat is thinking — ■ 

So is many a Republican — ■ 
How to save himself from sinking — 

Quit your rotten hulk, dear man ! 
Thieves succeed at every turning, 

Congress favors every scheme, 
Why should you, though more deserving, 

Have to perish in the stream ? 

So then — ■ 
Leave the boat you're in, my brother, 

Never mind what Plutes may say, 
Jump and get aboard another, 

Freedom calls you — come away. 
Don't give way to foolish discord' — 

Victory never comes by strife, 
Close your ranks and cast your ballots, 

On them hang the nation's life; 
Both old parties long to fool you, 

Just once more they beg your vote — 
Swear they never more shall rule you, 

Board the People's Party boat. 

So then — • 
When you vote, unite, my brothers, 

Never mind what Plutes may say, 
Don't be chumps and fight each other, 

Striking down a friend don't pay. 



Gold-Bug John. 

Tune — " Sweet Marie." 

There's a secret in your heart, 

John Carlisle 
A tale you might impart, 

John Carlisle, 
All your cronies know it well, 
And you caution them, " Don't tell '" 
In the White House you would dwell, 

John Carlisle. 
Gold- bugs call you quite profound, 

John Carlisle, 
Tour financial views are sound, 

John Carlisle, 
But you're stupid as a clam 
If you think that Uncle Sam 
Counts your views as worth a cent, 

John Carlisle. 

Choeus : 
Talk away, John Carlisle, 
Gold-bug John, talk away, 

Old Kentucky don't believe a word you say 
You're a traitor to your state, 
And your speeches have no weight, 
Though you fancy they're so great, 
Gold-bug John. 

Tour machine is nicely greased, 

John Carlisle, 
By the fat man way down east, 

John Carlisle, 
So conventions you could pack 
For of funds you had no lack, 
With the money power to back, 

John Carlisle. 
But conventions are not votes, 

John Carlisle, 
And the people are no dolts, 

John Carlisle, 
When the ballots are all in, 
Tou will find our cause will win, 
Then you'll want to kick your shin, 

John Carlisle. 

Chorus : Talk away, John Carlisle, etc. 
34 



Wheat is Low. 

(By Chas. A. Sheffield.) 
Tune — " Sweet and Low." 

Wheat is low, wheat is low, 

Mortgage ha* come to me now, 

Grow, grow, mortgage grow, 
Grow on the land I plow; 

Shylock has come with his gold to invest, 

Twelve per cent rates are his terms in the west, 
Wall Street has sent him to me, [reap. 

While I'm sowing, and while I'm hoeing he'll 

Way out west, do your best, 

Mortgage will come to you soon, 

You'll be blest if you rest, 

Midnight will seem like noon. 

Tossing your feverish head on your bed, 

Twelve per cent notes will seem heavy as lead, 
Bring back the greenback to me! 

Old fashioned greenbacks, your coming will win 
[back my sleep. 



35 



A Song for 1900. 

Long in their bondage the people have waited, 

Lulled to inaction by pulpit and press, 
Hoping their wrongs would in time be abated, 

Trusting the ballot to give them redress; 
Yainly they trusted — a high court's decision 

Swept the last bulwark of freedom away, 
The voice of the people is met with derision 

But a people in action no court will gainsay. 

Chorus : Then up with the masses and down with 
the classes, 
Death to the traitor whom money can buy, 
Co-operation's the hope of the nation, 
Strike for it now or your liberties die! 

Hark to the cries of the hungry and idle, 

Borne on the breezes from prairie to sea, 
Patience no longer their fury can bridle, 

Onward they're coming to die or be free; 
Hear and grow pale, ye despoilers of virtue, 

Corporate managers, masters of slaves, 
Fools! Did ye fancy they never could hurt you, 

Ye were the cowards and they were the braves. 

Chorus : Then up with the masses, etc. 

Who is your leader so bravely advancing, 

Right where the battle-tide rises and ebbs, 
Every man's courage so strongly enhancing, 

' Tis the Lincoln of Labor, Eugene Victor Debs ! 
Injunctions and prisons can never affright him, 

His heart beats with sympathy, never with fear, 
The love of a nation can never requite him, 

He comes to the rescue of all we hold dear. 

Chorus : Then up with the masses, etc. 

Hail to the birth of the New Constitution, 

Laws that are equal in justice to all, 
Hail to the age of man's true evolution, 

Order unfolding at Liberty's call ; 
Buried forever be selfish ambition, 

Cruel fomentor of discord and strife, 
Long live the Commonwealth, hope's glad fruition, 

Humanity rises to newness of life! 

Chorus : Then up with the masses, etc. 



Two Pictures. 

Tune— "7» the Gloaming.** 
" In a mansion, O my darling, 

Brown-stone front and marble staira, 
You and I will live together, 

Born to leisure, free from cares; 
You will cut a splendid figure 

When you give a bon ton tea, 
All the wealth your father willed you, 

Serving only you and me." 

"At our wedding, my darling, 

You will don a fortune there, 
Richest fabrics, worth their thousands, 

Queenly robes and jewels rare; 
Scores of eyes shall flash with envy, 

When thy dazzling form they see, 
All the world will know your pa, dear, 

Made his pile for you and me." 

In a crib a mother's darling 

On that very wedding day, 
Blue with cold and pinched with hunger, 

Moaning, breathed her life away. 
Tears are falling, swiftly falling, 

On that wasted, tiny frame, 
While in frantic grief the mother 

Calls her little child by name. 
"Elsie, Elsie, my darlnig — 

Leave me not, my love, my all ! 
God of pity, spare, I pray Thee, 

O, forbid this blow to fall ! " 
But in vain the mother pleaded — 

He who doeth all things well, 
All the want and pain foreseeing 

Called her up in heaven to dwell. 

These two pictures, so contrasting, 

Place them fitly side by side, 
For the baby's cold and hunger 

Helped to dress the selfish bride; 
And the mother's tears of sorrow 

Bought the lace and diamonds rare — 
\U the woes of starving millions 

Help to make a millionaire . 

37 



The Silver Lining-. 

Tune— "Wait Till the Clouds Roll By" 
Wait till the clouds roll by, brother, 

"Wait till the clouds roll by, 
Close to the faint silver lining 

Freedom's bright orb draws nigh; 
Light to the nation in darkness, 

Blight to plutocracy bold, 
Healing in pity the people, 

Smiting the tyrants of gold. 

Chobus — Wait till the clouds roll by, brother, 
Yonder's the bright blue sky, 
Liberty soon shall illume you, 
Wait till the clouds roll by. 

Capital boasts of her prestige, 

Scoffing at Labor's right, 
Justice in fetters lies bleeding, 

Hurled from her lofty height; 
Hark to the cries of the shipwrecked, 

Whirled in the maelstrom of greed! 
Gallantly fly to their rescue — ■ 

Heaven will honor the deed. 
Choeits — Wait till the clouds roll by, etc. 

Shoulder to shoulder, my brothers, 

Manfully bend to tne oar, 
Fear not the waves of oppression, 

Heed not the storm's loud roar; 
Fiing to the breezes your banner 

Waving defiance on high — ■ 
Soon shall it gleam in the sunlight — ■ 

Wait till the clouds roll by. 
Chobtjs — W 7 ait till the clouds roll by, etc. 

Wait till the clouds roll by, brother, 

Wait till the clouds roll by, 
Quick at the dawning of Freedom 

Oppression and fraud must die. 
See! Through the rift in the darkness 

The foes of humanity fly! 
Patient and steadfast, comrades — 

Wait till the clouds roll by. 
Chobus — Wait till the clouds roll by, etc. 

38 



Sound Money. 

(Tune — Whoa, Emma!) 

When voters want to vote 
Just give them one key-note, 

And then they'll sing the same old-party song, 
For many years the cry 
Was " 'Rah for tariff high," 

And now another strain is borne along. 

Chokus: — I* And it's) 

Sound Money, Sound Money, 

Two little words that will draw them like 
Sound Money, Sound Money, [honey, 

That's just the way to fool them again. 

When leaders take the stump, 
They tickle every chump 

With funny words about the " fiat craze," 
And 'ere their words are cold, 
The people shout for gold, 

And then sit down and wait for better days. 

Chobus : — 
(* And it's) Sound Money, etc. 

When people want the news, 
The papers all refuse 

To tell them how the country's going down, 
They say the debts we owe ' 
Are less than long ago 

And wages are way up in every town. 

Chobus; — (*And furthermore, they say it's all on 
account of — ) Sound Money, etc. 

If this is not enough, 
They make a bolder bluff, 

And threaten smaller pay and prices dear, 
•And then they try to scare 
The voters everywhere, 

By telling how the gold will disappear. 

Chobus: — (*And then you ail make fools of your- 
selves, and cry, Hurrah for — ) Sound Money, etc 

*Words included inC ) are to be spoken instead of being sung 



Battle Hymn of the Wronged. 

By Hamlin Garland. 
(Tune—" Glory, Glory, Hallelujah.") 

We have seen the reaj)er toiling in the heat of 

[summer sun,. 
We have seen his children needy when the harvesting 

was done r 
We have seen a mighty army dying helpless one by 
While their flag went marching on. [one r 

Chokus: — Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, 
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, 
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, 
While their flag went marching on. 

O the army of the wretched, how they swarm the 

[city streets, 

We have seen them in the midnight where the Goths 

[and Vandals meet, 

We have shuddered in the darkness at the noises of 

But their cause went marching on. [their feet> 

Chokus:— Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, etc , 

Our slavers' marts are empty, human flesh ao more is 

[sold, 
Where the dealer's fatal hammer wakes the clink of 

[leaping gold, 
But the slavers of the present more relentless powers 
Though the world goes marching on. [hold, 

Chokus: — Glory, Glory' Hallelujah, etc., 

But no longer shall the children bend above the 

[whizzing wheel r 
We will free the weary women from their bondage 

[under steel, 
In the mines and in the forest worn and helpless 
That his cause is marching on. [man shall feel, 

Chorus. — Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, etc., 

Then lift your eyes, ye toilers, in the desert hot and 

[drear. 
Catch the cool winds from the mountains, Hark ! 

[the river's voice is near. 
Soon we'll rest beside the fountains and the dream- 
As we go marching on. [land will be here, 

Chor:us — Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, etc., 
40 



Marseilles Hymn. 

Ye sons of freedom, wake to glory, 

Hark ! Hark ! what myriads bid you rise ; 

Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, 
Behold their tears, and hear their cries, 
Behold their tears and hear their cries ; 

Shall lawless tyrants, mischief breeding 
With hireling host, a ruffian band, 
Affright and desolate the land, 

While liberty and truth lie bleeding ? 

Arise, arise ye brave, 

Your dying country save, 

March on, march on, all hearts resolved, 

On liberty or death I 

With luxury and pride surrounded, 
The bold, insatiate despots dare, 

Their thirst for gold and power unbounded, 
To mete and vend the light and air, 
To mete and vend the light and air ; 

Like beasts of burden would they load us, 
Like gods would bid their slaves adore — • 
But man is man, and who is more ? 

Then shall they longer lash and goad us ? 

Arise, arise, ye brave, 

Your dying country save, 

March on, march on, all hearts resolved 

On liberty or death I 

Oh, Liberty ! can man resign thee, 
Once having felt thy glorious flame ? 

Can tyrants' bars and bolts confine thee, 
And thus thy noble spirit tame ? 
And thus thy noble spirit tame ? 

Too long our country wept, bewailing 
The tyrant's grasp on town and field, 
But freedom is our sword and shield, 

And all their arts are unavailing. 

Arise, arise, ye brave, 

Your dying country save, 

March on, march on, all hearts resolved 

On liberty or death ! 

41 



The songs on the following pages were written 
by the late Ben jamin F . Clark. — ("Uncle Ben.") 



The Banner of Freedom. 

(Tune — " The Star Spangled Banner.'''') 

0, say can you see? 'Tis the dawn of the right, 

That so heralds the coming of truth by its beaming; 
Whose broad sweeping of justice shall put to its flight 

All monopoly's deeds with plutocracy teeming. 
Then our senate may swear and our statesmen declare 
That the country is ruined if out of their care, 
But we mean that the Banner of Freedom shall wave 
O'er a land that has neither a black or white slave. 

There's a shore we can see through the mist of our 
wrong, 

Where the tide of oppression is slowly receding; 
For the ballot is still in the hands of the strong, 

And the progress of greed it is slowly impeding. 
Then onward ye brave, your inheritance save, 
Oppression and Mammon — send both to the grave, 
And the true Flag of Freedom shall then be unfurled 
And our banner of justice thrown out to the world. 

Then say, can ye doubt that our triumph is near, 
And that ye are the heroes to rescue the nation? 
Already the plutocrat trembles with fear. 

Yet he shall not be harmed, but must make reparation^ 
Then voters, press on, ere your prestige is gone, 
And fight for the right till the battle is won; 
And we'll see that the Banner of Freedom shall wave 
O'er a land that has neither a black or white slave. 



42 



The Product of Labor. 

{Time — " Bring Back My Bonnie To Me.") 

Where now are the fruits of our labor, 
And where are the products of skill ? 

They are seized by our plutocrat neighbor, 
His plethoric pockets to fill. 

Give back, give back 

Some of the fruits of our toil — our toil, 
Give back, give back 

Some of the fruits of our toil. 

Then voters, arise with ambition. 

For there's no occasion for fears, 
The ballot is your ammunition, 

Then wet your not powder with tears. 

Win back, win back 

Win back the bread ye have earned, have 
Win back, win back, [earned. 

Win back the bread ye have earned. 

Then strike from the shoulder, my brother, 
Strike out from the farms and the shops, 

You surely can help one another, 
To knock out the plutocrat's props. 

Strike back, strike back, 

Strike till you knock out his props, his props, 
Strike back, strike back 

Strike till you knock out his props. 
43 



Old Parties Must Go. 

(Tune— " Old Uncle Ned") 

Now, both of the old parties, they are singing us a song, 
It is " Lull-a-by, my dears, your crops are full," 

They are thinking that will sooth us, and we'll swallow 
down our wrong, 
But it's vain for them to go to pulling wool. 

We can see right through it from the word "go — go," 
They must hang up their fiddle and their bow, 

For we'll no more listen to their poor old fads, 
They can go to — " where they ought to long ago. 

If we were were crows and buzzards, full crops per- 
haps would do, 
But that is not the case as you will see, 
We are men that strike for justice, and we mean to 
have it too, 
And to this the wealth producers all agree. 

Then both of the old parties, they must go— go — go, 
They must hang up their fiddle and their bow, 

For there's no more work for the poor old cads, 
They can go to — " where they ought to, long ago. 

Then rally all ye elements of labor and reform, 
And remember that in union there is might, 

In this peaceful revolution, where the ballot is our 
And with that we'll ever battle for the right, [bomb, 

Send them up Salt River, eating crow — crow — crow, 
'Till they hang up their fiddle and their bow, 

Then we'll give a double funeral to the poor old cads, 
And we'll send 'em — " where we ought to long ago. 

44 



The Caucus. 

(Tune— " Nellie Bly . ") 

You and I 
Shut our eye, 

When the Caucus meets, 
And never question whether they 
Are honest men or cheats. 

Hi! voters — hoi voters, 

Listen now to me. 
I'll show to you — I'll prove to you, 
Some things you ought to see, 

The lobbyist 
With his fist 

Full of rich men's cash, 
Well knows the man on whom he can 
With money " make a mash." 

Hi! voters — ho! voters 

Listen unto me, 
The man who pays the biggest price 
The candidate will be. 

Then we fools 
Are his tools, 

And vote for him because 
He's put upon the ticket — so 

We let him make our laws. 

Hi! voters — ho! voters 

Listen now to me, 
And vote the poor man's ticket where 
You know there is no fee. 
45 



The People's Hymn. 

( Tune — " America") 

Nature with generous hand 
Pours forth throughout our land 

Her bounteous store; 
Why, then, should there be strife? 
Why, then, is hunger rife? 
Why struggle so for life 

Our worthy poor ? 

Brothers, ye who produce, 
Swear not to call a truce 

Till right prevail ; 
Now is your favored hour, 
Your ballot is your power, 
Strike while you have the power; 

Ye shall not fail. 

Organize industry, 
This is your liberty, 

In it is strength; 
" Pull all together," then, 
Show the world ye are men; 
All shall confess it when 

We win at length. 

*' Strike while the iron's hot." 
Sure you have not forgot 

Our father's plan; 
Olaim pure democracy! 
Down with plutocracy! 
Stamp out hypocrisy ! 

We surely cam 

Cease now to be a tool 
Under King Mammon's rule. 

Strike for your own! 
Let us the laws repair, >i 
Where now the milionaire, 
Seizing the lion's share, i 

Leaves us the bone. 

46 



Onward, then, let us move, 
Filled with fraternal love; 

Nor yield the fight, 
Till all who work are free, 
Still let our motto be : 
" Union and Liberty," 

God sj)eed the right, 



Rally. 

{Tune— "Old Dog Tray.") 

Come all ye men with souls, 

Come rally at the jdoIIs, 
Where still ye are sovereign by law and by right, 

Our legislators choose 

Who will enact our views, 
And raise us to true manhood's height, 

Chorus : Old demagogues are unfaithful, 
We'll have to drive them away, 
They're wickedly inclined, 
You'll never, never find 
Them living up to what they say. 

Come, boys of twenty-one, 

Your franchise is your gun 
Your ballot is your bullet, so lookout where you aim, 

Don't fire in the dark, 

You'll surely miss the mark, 
And plutocrats will bag all the game. 

Chorus : So look for the light and be faithful, 
Nor follow in darkness their ways, 
They're wickedly inclined, 
You'll never, never find 
Them living up to what they say. 

47 



The Way To Victory. 

(Tune — " Auld Lang Syne") 

Shall song and music be forgot 

When workingmen combine, 
With love united may they not 

Have power almost divine ? 
Shall idle drones still live like kings 

On labor not their own ? 
Shall true men starve, while thieves and rings 

Heap where they have not sown ? 

No! by our cause eternal, no! 

'Twill not forever be, 
And plutocrats will e'er long know 

How workers will be free; 
No! by our cause eternal, no! 

'Twill not forever be, 
We'er bound in union's cause to show 

The way to victory. 



Pull All Together. 

(Tune—^ThelBattle Cry of Freedom.") 

We will gather from the workshops 
And we'll gather from the grange, 

Shouting, " Hurrah, my boys, for freedom ! n 
Then we'll rally round our standard 
And the laws we'll rearrange 

Shouting, " Hurrah, my boys, for freedom ! " 

Cho: Then pull all together, 

Hurrah, boys, hurrah 
Though stormy the weather, 

We'll follow our star 
Yes, we'll rally round our standard 
And the laws we'll rearrange, 
Shouting, " Hurrah, my boys for freedom!'* 

Now both of the old parties 
They are plotting with the rich, 

" Sound money " pro and con is their salvation, 
But the biggest bribe will bag them 
For their palms for boodle itch, 

Begardless of the danger Of damnation. 

Cho: Then pull all together, etc. 
48 



He Who Reads, Rules! 

Any of the following list of books will be sent to 
any address on receipt of price: — 

Ten Men of Money Island, Norton. The primer 
of finance. In English, German, Norwegian, 

or Swedish (3 for 25) $.10 

Cold Facts, Casca St. John, contains more es- 
sence of facts relating to finance than any 

book on earth (4 for 25) .10 

Seven Financial Conspiracies, Emery. You need 

this book, English or German (3 for 25) .10 

Merrie England, Blatchford. The very best 

book on Socialism ever issued (3 for 25) .10 

Citizens' Money, Westrup ... 1 10 

Financial Problems, Westrup 10 

Coin's Financial School, Harvey 25 

Coin Up to Date, Harvey 25 

Brice's Financial Catechism 50 

Uncle Sam's Wealth and Money, Murray 15 

Money Found, Hill, an excellent work 25 

A New Monetary System, Loucks 25 

Government Ownership of Railroads, Stockwell . 10 
Government Ownership of Railroads and Tele- 
graphs, Loucks 25 

Railways of Europe and America, Todd 50 

Progress and Poverty, Henry George 32 

Social Problems, Henry George 35 

The Condition of Labor, Henry George 35 

The Land Question, Henry George 20 

The Story of My Dictatorship, Henry George . . 30 

Points for Thinkers, Stockwell 10 

Stockwell's Bad Boy and His Pa, Stockwell ... . 10 

Things as I See Them, J. A. Wayland 05 

When the Laborers Will be Rich 05 

People's Party Shot and Shell, Bland 10 

Civilization, Its Cause and Cure, Carpenter 15 

Direct Legislation through the Initiative and 

Referendum, J. W. Sullivan 25 

Why Are We Poor, Casca St. John 25 

The Silver Question, Schilling 10 

Four copies each "Ten Men of Money Island," 
"Cold Facts," "Seven Financial Conspiracies," 
"Stockwell's Bad Boy and His Pa," and " Things as 

I See Them," $1 . 00 

Send your orders to C. St. John Cole, Publisher, 
Minneapolis, Minn. 



